


Stay

by sunnyhomes



Category: Alien: Isolation (Video Game)
Genre: Christopher Samuels pull yourself together old sport, F/M, Feelings Realization, One Shot, Sleep Deprivation, Sleep Walking, also Amanda Ripley isn't ashamed of her battle scars she's a survivor, and get your CPU out of the gutter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 02:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11637348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyhomes/pseuds/sunnyhomes
Summary: Samuels' guest invites herself into his room, and though she is more than welcome to distract him from this hyper-focused trance, he sacrifices his own rest to give her the room to sleep in peace.Either a short stand alone, or set before Chapter 7 of Walk in the Park: Things Left Unsaid.





	Stay

It's four in the morning before Samuels decides to go to bed. 

He realizes the hypocrisy of his actions; fetching a tired, cranky Amanda, riddled with anxiety at early hours, wishing her painful history would stop following her to bed, wasn't beyond the norm. He's always happy to help- his mind a practical device around the clock, so between her needing an uplifting chat and being an absolute mess, it's hardly out of his way to be with her at 2AM or 2PM. Only once every two weeks does Chris actually need rest, which is definitely not an unachievable goal, and today is that day, but it's his turn to stay awake lost in thought. A synthetic with it's mind wandering, easier convinced it is faulty than the alternative. 

Even now, after finally making it to bed, he's still sitting upright on the edge, hands on his knees. His attention equally split between two extremes, the origin of much wonder that is Amanda Ripley, and a loose thread in the carpet. 

Yes, definitely faulty. 

It's inevitable really, Samuels is certain one day Amanda will grow tired of him. He had tried to keep out of her way as much as possible, an etiquette program restricting him from being unnecessarily seen or heard. A friendly helper, always present for when needed, and invisible for when not. 

But living with Amanda is quite different, she will get restless if he hasn't started a conversation for a few hours, or if he tries to go unnoticed, and not take up too much of her day. She likes him present with her. It is nice, there could be no denying that much, assuming someone truly cares about him in a way that doesn't directly benefit themselves. Sure, Samuels offers his time and effort when it comes to housework and creature comforts, but in return she attempts requites in the form of gentle moments of gratitude, leading him to believe she actually saw him as sentient. Alive. 

Not that he genuinely has a life, but with Amanda whatever it is is worth living, he decides. Even if he is technically just an over-sized household security drone. 

Christopher has barely laid down when a single hard knock rattles the door. He's up on his elbows, trying to come to a conclusion who (however obvious, one must still deduce as programmed) it could have been, and why. 

“Yes?” Samuels calls out.

The handle turns and Ripley basically tumbles over the tile to carpet liner. 

“You're up early.” _Or up late_. 

Amanda whines as she rubs her eyes, nodding, and stepping into the room. “Why did you close the door on my face, we were having a conversation.”

She's lying, and though not offended by it, Chris can't determine her intent. He knows with certainty he's been sitting here in the dark for forty minutes, why she would proclaim otherwise baffles him. 

Amanda teeters on the spot, her shoulders fall as she scratches the back of her neck, eyes barely open. 

Not lying, Samuels discovers, but asleep- and dreaming. His chest grows hot- of him, apparently. 

“Oh, Amanda.” He adores softly. “Do you need help?”

“No, I need sleep.”

“Brilliant idea, do you remember how to get back to bed?”

Amanda nods, but doesn't move. 

Had Samuels been acting like this, he'd have diagnostics run and be out of commission until whatever bug had been fixed. This woman, however, an organic mess of sleep deprivation, wobbling in the doorway, it was endearing.

“You're _in_ my bed.” She states matter of factly, more lucid now since walking brow-first into his door. “We were just talking about this. Its fine, just, scooch.”

Although it is true, and Samuels doesn't debate weather it is or isn't his on a technicality, this whole apartment and everything in it, belongs to Amanda. Himself included. She'd hate it if he ever confessed to feeling as such, but he quite likes the idea of her possessing him, it's a tie to her that feels real. Friendship is nice, and with her it is valued above all else, but it's still an imaginary construct, a bond more easily broken than an agreement to own and belong. This, he understands.

Ripley walks towards him and before Christopher truly understands what's happening, she lays down, huddling up in the gap at his side. Her head isn't even on a pillow, and her knees are poking off the mattress, but she sighs contently, and wriggles her bottom a little closer to Samuels.

In a slight panic he sits straight up, there are _no_ protocols for this in his directory and he's at a complete loss. He knows what human males would do in a situation like this, but as it stands, he knows such exercises are not intended for him, and however stress relieving it may be, Ripley does need her sleep. It's all very illogical, and nothing that much interests him anyway. But still, Christopher realizes curiously, the process in general had still crossed his mind.

He scoots over in the bed so Amanda has enough room, it's a double, and there's not much to give, but she takes it happily and rolls to face him, her hands form fists in the hem of his shirt.

“Can you stay? It's freezing and I can't sleep.”

Samuels laughs as quietly as possible. “I believe you're sleeping right now.”

“What?”

Amanda squints up at him accusingly against wildly escaped hair. It just won't do. Tucking the loose strands behind her ears he finds his hand cupping her cheek.

He could stay, she has explicitly asked him to. There could be no harm in sharing a bed, considering this human being had previously displayed her comfort proximity to him, having fallen asleep with her head on his knee and hand in his own before. But beds were far more intimate than that, it's where couples slept, real couples and not this undefined wishful thinking.

_It's fine. _She'd said. He is wanted here in this moment, at least in her dreams where he could be anything. Even human.__

____

There's a pang in his core like a static shock, he doesn't like the feeling very much.

____

Samuels sits up, unfolding her fingers from his shirt like aluminium foil. Samuels arranges his pillows under her head and pulls his blankets over her small frame. He can see the scars on her shoulders, gratefully not deliberate, but the markings of fire, debris, and violence, he pats the blanket into them. However healed they were, Samuels knows they still hurt her while she sleeps. Especially when she sleeps alone.

____

“Are you leaving?”

____

“I think it's best that I go.” Samuels replies, deadpan. He really doesn't.

____

“Oh.” 

____

The image of her waking up net to him, embarrassed that she, a grown woman, had crawled into his bed in the night, being apologetic- it moves his feet to the door. 

____

Amanda blinks in the darkness. While all she would see is a silhouette watching over her, he can see all the features in her face. The sadness, disappointment, loneliness. She reaches up and hugs the pillow, his pillow, wrapping her arms tightly around it, engulfing it into an embrace. 

____

Samuels kicks himself. He did the right thing, but God help him, he should have just stayed.

____

**Author's Note:**

> \- for the wonderful DRC who wanted to see how this plotted out.


End file.
